


Diamonds In The Snow

by QueenTzahra



Category: CLAMP - Works, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: But what else is new?, CLAMP Secret Santa 2017, Christmas fic, Fuuma and Seishiro act like assholes, Gen, Ghost Hunting, Haunted Hotel, Paranormal investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTzahra/pseuds/QueenTzahra
Summary: CLAMP Secret Santa 2017! Fuuma and Seishiro have their very own ghosthunting show on Netflix, and it's time to film their Christmas special! Will their investigation turn up just another ghost story, or perhaps something more interesting?





	Diamonds In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning good morning, and of course, a very Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, whatever you're celebrating, I hope it's joyous.
> 
> This is my gift for CLAMP Secret Santa 2017 for the prompt "Fuuma and Seishiro as modern ghost hunters." I had so much fun with this, it kind of got away from me slightly, but that's cool. I also got utterly and completely strung out on Buzzfeed Unsolved as part of my research. Fellow Boogaras, where you at?!
> 
> Anyway, best wishes today, I hope you enjoy! OH, and the title is a lyric from 2000 Miles by The Pretenders, one of my favorite Christmas songs.
> 
> Enjoy~

"So where exactly are we going?" Seishiro asked, rolling down the window and exhaling smoke. A sudden blast of wintery air rushed into the car, and Fuuma grimaced as goose bumps rose up his arms and tiny snowflakes blustered around them. He wouldn't have cared about smoke in his own car, but this was on loan to them from production and they tended to complain.

"What happened, you fall asleep during the meeting again?" He asked, putting on his turn signal and switching lanes to get around someone driving too slowly. In reply, Seishiro just took another drag from his cigarette, and Fuuma rolled his eyes. "Evergarden Manor, an old mansion that got converted into a hotel in some tiny ass town in the middle of nowhere."

"You're going to have to be much more specific," Seishiro said, dryly, and though Fuuma heaved an impatient sigh, he had to admit he had a point.

"Did you at least pick up that it's our Christmas special?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro gave him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

"I picked up on something, considering we finished filming our second season months ago." Fuuma rolled his eyes again. "How exactly is it a Christmas special?" Seishiro continued, wearily. "Are we doing a 'tonight you will be visited by three spirits' scenario? Is your spirit box going to sing carols? Or will it just be our usual show but with us in Santa hats or some nonsense?" Fuuma allowed him a laugh.

"If a ghost sings me a carol through my spirit box I'll quit paranormal investigation cold turkey."

"What about a Christmas pop song?"

"Depends on which one." Seishiro nodded, took one last drag from his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray they'd wedged under the handbrake, a souvenir from filming their very first episode a year ago. It was black glass with  _Sleepy Hollow_  emblazoned across the bottom. Fuuma had bought it as a joke, but had carried it with them for good luck ever since, despite what Seishiro said. "But no seriously, it's because this place is most paranormally active on Christmas Eve."

"And why's that?" Seishiro asked in a bored voice as he rolled up the window. Fuuma turned up the heat, then slowed down as the road suddenly became more congested.

"Because," he began, rather resignedly, knowing he'd have to repeat all of this on camera later. However, almost as though this thought had manifested in the steadily warming air,

"Wait a second," Seishiro cut in before reaching into the backseat for a black camera bag. Fuuma smiled appreciatively, watching him unzip it.

"I was gonna say, coast is clear now you've finished your cigarette." Seishiro held one hand to his chest and sighed in ostentatious, though profoundly sarcastic, relief, and Fuuma allowed him another laugh. "We should also probably get some shots of me driving in this fucking terrible weather."

"Would you really call this fucking terrible?" Seishiro asked, setting up the camera in its fixture in the middle of the windshield.

"Always the skeptic," Fuuma sighed, though again he had to admit Seishiro had a point. The snow outside was light and powdery, only sticking to the layers in the trees, leaving the highway basically clear.

"Shh, neither of us are skeptics, remember? That's the whole point of our show," Seishiro reminded him, taking off the lens cap and switching the camera on. Fuuma snorted, though of course it was true: their producer had outlawed the word almost the moment they'd agreed to take their legitimate paranormal investigation business to Netflix.

"The believer/skeptic dynamic is way tired, wouldn't you agree?" She had asked during an early lunch meeting in the sun outside a café.

"Can I smoke here?" Seishiro asked. The producer raised her eyebrows. "It helps me maintain my spiritual connection," he explained, without a trace of sarcasm, though Fuuma could see his lip beginning to curl even though the producer didn't.

"Uh, no, smoking within restaurant boundaries will get you fined here, even if it's outside," she replied, slightly uncomfortably.

"That's a shame," Seishiro sighed, shaking his head. "It works especially well for exorcisms and protective spells, but if anything," his eyes darted momentarily to the corner over the producer's left shoulder. "We have salt." Fuuma hastily turned his snort of laughter into a cough as he watched the producer try to decide if he was joking or not. However, she managed to recover herself fairly quickly.

"I see… Well, speaking of your spiritual connection," she said. "I love you guys' old school/new school approach, it feels totally fresh!"

"I live to subvert," Fuuma said with a gracious little nod.

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Seishiro asked, dryly.

"Shut up."

"All right all right," Seishiro said, pressing the record button on the camera. Fuuma immediately looked into it and stuck his tongue out.

"Keep your eyes on the road, please," Seishiro said, wearily.

"Sorry," Fuuma replied, smirking.

" _Anyway_ , where are we off to on this snowy Christmas Eve?" Seishiro asked, turning in his seat, the better to look at Fuuma, a would-be curious expression on his face.

" _Well_ ," Fuuma began in his presenter voice, though it wasn't quite as rehearsed as he'd sound when they did voiceover to fill in the gaps later. "We are going to the Evergarden Manor, out in the middle of nowhere, as you can see, which was an old mansion belonging to the Evergarden family that has since been converted into a very nice hotel."

"Yes, plug the hotel, very good."

"I could plug you instead, how about that?" Fuuma offered, but Seishiro ignored him.

"So the Evergarden Manor. Why are we going there on Christmas Eve?"

"Because that's the most spiritually active time," Fuuma explained, patiently.

"Is that because of a specific story or because late night between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day is just generally active?"

"Is it?" Fuuma asked, his brow furrowing.

"According to some traditions," Seishiro replied, shrugging.

"Well shit, that's news to me," Fuuma said. "And  _oh_  shit, that's our exit!"

"That's not new information," Seishiro said, rolling his eyes.

"What, that our exit's coming up or the thing about Christmas?" Seishiro just replied with a sigh. "I don't need to know shit like that, I can just ask you," Fuuma reminded him sweetly, guiding the car slowly back to the right to exit the highway.

"Kids these days," Seishiro said, despairingly. Fuuma stopped at the red light at the bottom of the exit ramp and looked directly into the camera.

"I know, us with our smart phones and night vision cameras and EMF readers…" He saw Seishiro's lip curl into an appreciative smile as they shared the sarcasm their producer would miss, but a line she'd eat up. The light changed, and Fuuma turned left, up onto a much smaller and snowier tree lined road. "It's pretty back here," Fuuma observed, taking in the dark green of the pine branches under the snow and the grey light of the overcast sky.

"Mm."

"Sorry, so this hotel," Fuuma continued, returning to his more presentery tone. "Originally it was the home of the Evergardens, your typical well to do turn of the century family. The youngest child, a daughter named Violet-"

"Violet Evergarden?" Seishiro asked, incredulously.

"You know how much right you have to come at someone for having a flower name, Mr. Sakurazuka?" Fuuma asked, turning to face him. He held up his hand with his thumb and index finger a millimeter apart. Seishiro stared back at him, unimpressed.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Fuuma made a show of rolling his eyes for the camera before continuing.

"So Violet was supposed to marry her fiancé once he came back from fighting in World War I. He was due back Christmas Day, 1917, so on Christmas Eve the Evergardens hosted a huge party to celebrate. The whole town was invited and it was apparently fucking spectacular. I'll read actual quotes about it later, but you get the idea." Fuuma paused to take a deep breath, and when he next spoke, it was a much sadder and dramatic tone. "However, the next morning, instead of her fiancé, a telegram arrived saying that he'd been killed in battle."

"I was waiting for it," Seishiro said, dispassionately.

"Right?" Fuuma asked, though he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "Anyway, apparently she was so grief stricken that she died the very same day."

"Again, I was waiting for it."

"Like I'm waiting for you to shut the fuck up?  _Anyway_ -"

"Legend has it," Seishiro began, knowingly, and Fuuma sped up towards a red light, then slammed on the breaks. Seishiro flew forward but his seatbelt caught him across the chest. He swore, readjusting it, and Fuuma continued the story as though there had been no interruption.

"Legend has it, that on Christmas Eve, you can still hear the sounds of the party, and sometimes even see the ghosts of Violet and her family and guests," Fuuma finished, carefully guiding the car through the intersection and further along the winding road into the mountains. A few cars passed them in the opposite direction, but other than that the road was empty. Silence pressed in upon them, though it was soothing rather than scary. "And every year there's a big Christmas Eve party at the hotel to commemorate, so that's where we're going!"

"Anyone else we should be on the look out for?" Seishiro asked, rather crossly.

"Supposedly you can hear people in other parts of the house too. Hotel guests from after the place got bought and restored in the '50s," Fuuma said, shrugging. "But it's mostly Violet we gotta watch out for."

"Obviously, if she's the one everyone believes in," Seishiro said in an annoyingly superior tone. "The more you believe in something supernatural the more powerful it becomes."

"Thanks, because we don't explain that every episode," Fuuma replied, following the road as it veered right and turned into the main street of the pretty little town where they'd be spending the night. It looked like a Christmas card: old fashioned houses frosted with glittering snow through which colorful lights and pine garland were visible, steamy windows lit with candles and people out braving the weather to finish shopping before everything closed up. Fuuma couldn't help but smile. "People also went up in there with like, Ouija Boards and other amateur shit, though," Fuuma continued, pulling up to a stop sign. "So there's probably other stuff hanging around I think it'd be best we left alone."

"Are you sure? It'd probably be our best episode," Seishiro said, fairly. "Merry Christmas, have an evil poltergeist."

"They're  _here_ ," Fuuma said in a high pitched voice, drawing out the last word.

"For fuck's sake…" Fuuma just smirked as he turned and made his way through the intersection, down a much emptier street and up to the house, just visible through the snow. It looked like every other supposedly haunted 19th Century mansion, but it was softened by the lights and wreaths at every window and the blanket of snow on the roof and front lawn. He pulled into the driveway, crunching over the salt and gravel and fresh snow, and parked right outside the front door.

"You want me to take the camera?" He asked, shutting off the engine. "Get an establishing shot or whatever it is?"

"Let's check in first," Seishiro said. "So we can do all the busywork at once." Fuuma nodded and got out of the car to retrieve all their bags and equipment from the backseat while Seishiro shut off the camera and took it off the dashboard. It wasn't as cold as Fuuma had expected, but the wind chill made him shiver as he slammed the car door shut and hurried up the path to the house, Seishiro behind him, though walking annoyingly slowly.

Seishiro opened the front door and they stepped onto the grand, and very warm, foyer that now served as the hotel's lobby. The walls were paneled in dark wood and lit softly by sconces made to look like gaslights. The floors were covered in plush rugs and a fire burned in the extravagant hearth, the mantelpiece of which was bedecked with holly. The smell of baking and spices wafted in from the unseen kitchen, and through a door to the left was the drawing room, full of people around another fireplace as well as a magnificent Christmas tree. Seishiro shut the door behind them with a creak, and Fuuma strode up to the reception desk beside the fireplace, leaving their bags and equipment by the door, and rang the small golden bell upon it. A startled cry echoed from somewhere up above them, and an older lady with a kind face appeared at the top of the staircase to their right, wearing an ironically ugly Christmas sweater and a Santa hat.

"Sorry!" She exclaimed, hurrying towards them. "I thought you'd be delayed because of the weather, you must be Fuuma and Seishiro!" She extended her hand, and they both shook it as she introduced herself as the owner.

"Very nice to meet you," Fuuma said.

"Thank you for having us," Seishiro added. She waved the words aside with a smile.

"Thank you for coming, please! Can I get you coffee or tea or anything? Or wait, you probably need to unpack first, don't you?" She asked, suddenly anxious as her eyes found their bags and equipment.

"Don't worry, it's just us and like, three cameras," Fuuma said, smiling. "We don't have a production team or anything." The owner looked stunned.

"It's sort of our thing, being  _just_  classier than found footage," Seishiro explained, and she laughed at his sardonic tone.

"Well I must say that saves me trouble! I'm sorry I'm not really familiar with your show, but that sounds interesting, is there- No, wait a second," she said, holding her hands up as if to stop herself. "I should let you get unpacked first, here," she scurried behind the reception desk and took an old skeleton key tied with a ribbon out of a drawer. "This is just for show," she added, grinning at them. "Your room has an actual modern lock with a security code and everything."

"Will that do anything against the ghosts?" Seishiro asked her, in the same sardonic tone, and she let out another burst of laughter, but then gave him rather a mischievous smile.

"You tell me." Fuuma and Seishiro exchanged a look, picked up their bags and followed her up the creaky stairs and down a hallway, stopping at a door at the end. The owner opened it for them, revealing a large, old fashioned room with huge, ice glazed windows, two full sized beds and a working fireplace, above which was hung a portrait of a pretty young woman with clever eyes. "Is this all right?" The owner asked, and Fuuma turned to smile at her.

"It's perfect, thank you so much," he said, while Seishiro immediately walked over to look at the picture, leaving his things by the door.

"That's our Violet," the owner said, watching Seishiro gaze appraisingly up at her portrait.

"I'll wait to ask you if you've seen her before until we're on camera, if that's cool," Fuuma told the owner, and yet again she laughed.

"Certainly. After you're unpacked come down to the drawing room for coffee, we can talk there before we have to start setting up for the party."

"Sounds good," Fuuma replied, his eyes on Seishiro, whose eyes were still on Violet's. The owner smiled.

"I'll leave you to get settled then," she said, and backed out of the room.

"Seishiro," Fuuma said, once the door had creaked shut behind her.

"Yes?"

"You getting weird vibes from the picture or what?" Fuuma asked, coming to stand beside him and looking at the portrait too.

"Not at all," he replied. A moment's silence passed. "She's here though, I'm fairly sure."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Seishiro turned to look at Fuuma. "I'm guessing we're not trying to actually get her on camera though?" Fuuma crossed his arms and sighed thoughtfully.

"I mean we  _could_ , but where's the fun in that?"

"True," Seishiro replied, before stepping away to start unpacking.

Fuuma and Seishiro spent the rest of the afternoon doing all the most tedious, though necessary, parts of filming an episode: establishing shots, talking to each other about the story on camera and interviewing the hotel staff and guests. The owner and her husband had the most stories, which they shared over coffee and gingerbread after a thorough tour of the house. It really was beautiful, and the owner's parents had taken special care to preserve it after they'd bought it.

"Which was partially because they were incredibly picky, but also because they didn't want to disturb the spirits," the owner explained.

"They do tend to get annoyed if you mess with their houses," Fuuma agreed, looking around the extravagantly decorated dining room.

"I'm guessing I can't smoke in here?" Seishiro asked, regretfully, and the owner shook her head.

"You'll have to go out to the terrace, I'm afraid," she said, gesturing out through a set of French doors that led onto a stone porch overlooking the valley below. It had stopped snowing, and the sun was beginning to set, staining everything in deep oranges, purples and blues.

"He has it rough," Fuuma sighed.

"I actually do, you have no idea…" The owner and her husband laughed appreciatively.

Shortly thereafter, night fell, pitch dark and thick with excitement, while inside Evergarden Manor was warm and bright and the Christmas Eve party swung into action. The drawing and dining rooms were full of people, music, food and drinks while fires crackled merrily in every hearth. It seemed everyone in town had shown up, and were all eating, drinking and exchanging gifts or else casting Fuuma and Seishiro curious looks. At around 8 PM, the owner turned down the music and got up to make an announcement, still in her ironically ugly Christmas sweater and Santa hat.

"Good evening everyone, and a  _very_  happy holiday to you all!" The crowd replied with an appreciative cheer and raising of glasses. "As some of you know, we have special guests with us tonight!" She continued, a wide smile on her face. "Fuuma Monou and Seishiro Sakurazuka from Netflix's  _Séance and Spirit Box_!" She gestured towards them, standing with cups of warm and spicy mulled wine. An excited shiver and a few cries of recognition echoed from the crowd. "Here to try and catch a glimpse of Miss Violet Evergarden!" A few more eager cries, and Seishiro inclined his head while Fuuma smiled graciously and toasted the guests.

"Thank you _so_  much for having us!" He said, catching a few people's eyes. "I don't know how many of you have seen our show, but-"

"I have!" Someone cried from across the room, and laughter spread outwards from where they stood like ripples in a pond.

"I'm  _very_  sorry!" Fuuma called back, grinning broadly, and more laughter rippled out through the crowd. "Anyway, this will actually be our first ever Christmas special and I'm both excited and honored to be shooting it here." He raised his glass at the owner and her husband. "Unfortunately I can't really give more details, non-disclosure agreements and all that other stuff-"

"Boo!" The same person called, and yet again the crowd laughed.

"Hey, take it up with my producer, all right?" Fuuma replied, and Seishiro took a sip of mulled wine to hide his contemptuous laugh. "But yeah, Happy Holidays,  _whatever_  you're celebrating, and best of luck in the New Year!" Fuuma raised his drink, and everyone followed suit, even Seishiro, and they all drank together. Someone put the music back on, and Fuuma took another swig of mulled wine before muttering to Seishiro, "I'll do all the talking if you wanna step out for a second."

"Thank you." Seishiro set down his mulled wine on the nearest table then sidestepped behind Fuuma into the dining room and out the French doors onto the terrace. It wasn't as though Seishiro minded all the publicity stuff, they just recognized that Fuuma was way better at it. It also provided the perfect distraction while Seishiro did deeper investigation off camera.

Immediately, Fuuma was swarmed by people, asking questions, offering drinks and requesting autographs. He embraced it, though, smiling and nodding and waving until Seishiro came back inside, throwing away a cigarette butt, and they could play off each other again. This continued until after 11 PM, when the party at last began to disperse. Once one family said they needed to be getting home, everyone else seemed to follow like a convoluted chain reaction. People began very slowly to gather their things, to wish their friends a happy holiday and to thank the owner and her husband before heading back out into the cold. Fuuma and Seishiro just watched, nodding politely and smiling as needed, until it was just them, the owner, her husband and those members of staff and guests who were staying the night.

"Great party," Fuuma told the owner, shaking her hand.

"Oh it was nothing!" She cried, jovially, very pink in the face by now. "I'm just glad you enjoyed yourselves. Anyway, we'll leave you to get set up, good luck…!" Her voice trailed away excitedly and she smiled at them over her shoulder as she headed back up the stairs with her husband. Fuuma and Seishiro waited for the sound of a door slamming in the distance, then turned to look at each other.

"How are you doing, good?" Fuuma asked.

"I suppose so," Seishiro replied, shrugging.

"Did you see her at all?" Fuuma persisted. Seishiro said nothing. "Violet?" In answer, Seishiro just took his cigarettes out of his pocket, and Fuuma knew trying to extract more information from him would be pointless. "If you set off a smoke alarm again-"

"I'm going out to the terrace," he interrupted, as though it were obvious. "Could you set up the night vision camera and audio recorder?"

"So it's like that?" Fuuma asked, as Seishiro turned to go without replying. "Fine, fine." Fuuma heaved a huge, despairing sigh, but trudged up to their room to get the rest of their equipment.

By the time Seishiro had returned to the drawing room, bringing with him a strong smell of smoke, Fuuma had set up two chairs and a table in front of the now extinguished fire as well as the night vision camera to point at them.

"Are you ready?" He asked, beginning to fuss with the rest of the cameras in the room.

"Sure," Seishiro replied, smirking and picking up the last bag to unpack, which contained all of Fuuma's gadgets. "Where do you want your toy?" He asked, extracting the spirit box.

"It's not a  _toy_ , it's a  _tool_ ," Fuuma corrected him, with dignity, taking it setting it tenderly on the table. "You know, like you."

"What?"

"What?" Fuuma smiled and Seishiro rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's just get this over with." Fuuma finished unpacking the bag then pressed record on all of the cameras while Seishiro shut off the lights, and they both carefully took their seats and hooked up microphones to the fronts of their shirts. The room was almost totally dark now, lit by the moon, stars, sparkling snow and the tiny red lights on the cameras. Fuuma's eyes were alight with anticipation and he smiled at Seishiro through the darkness.

"Ready?"

"Yes, for fuck's sake."

"Okay, okay, shit." Fuuma cleared his throat and faced the camera before speaking in his presenter voice. "So here we are, it is just after midnight in the drawing room at Evergarden Manor, which is reportedly  _the_  paranormal hotspot here." He turned to Seishiro, who had fixed the camera with a sardonic smile. "You feel anything yet?" Seishiro raised an eyebrow.

"Aside from you having too much mulled wine at the Christmas Eve party? Not especially." Fuuma gave the camera a "see what I put up with?" sort of look.

"This coming from someone who can't communicate with spirits without nicotine." Seishiro appeared to consider the point, but said nothing about it. "You've gotten your fix tonight though, I do believe," Fuuma continued, his smile back in place. "So let's get started!" He looked expectantly at Seishiro, who sighed, but closed his eyes and began to chant a mantra. Over and over he said the words before reaching out in front of him and tracing a pentagram in midair with his fingers. "It's already feeling colder!" Fuuma said, the moment Seishiro had finished, looking around eagerly. "And see? We've gone down a few degrees," he added, picking their thermometer up off the table.

"A few degrees is a draft, not a spirit," Seishiro reminded him. "Besides, given how much energy this party gave to Violet, she wouldn't need to create cold spots if she wanted to try something." Fuuma gave the camera another "see what I put up with?" look as he set the thermometer down.

"Do you think she's here?" He asked, delicately. Seishiro replied with a sarcastic smile.

"I don't know, why don't you ask her?"

"Violet?" Fuuma called, loudly.

"So crass," Seishiro told the camera.

"Violet, if you're here, give us a sign?" Nothing happened. Fuuma looked at Seishiro, silently demanding an explanation.

"Don't be fucking rude?" Seishiro offered. Fuuma sighed in that way that told Seishiro he thought he was probably right, but wouldn't say so. He repeated the question, in a much softer tone, then added,

"Please?" A moment's silence passed, then a faint knock echoed from somewhere inside the room. "Oh shit!" Fuuma exclaimed, while Seishiro gave the camera a superior sort of smile. "Violet, if this is you, could you please confirm?" Another moment's silence, then another knock from the same place inside the room. "This is so awesome!" Fuuma cried, looking to Seishiro to share his enthusiasm, though he looked only mildly interested. "Violet, if you," but Fuuma stopped speaking very abruptly. "Do you hear that?"

"Mm?"

"Shut up and listen!" They fell silent, and they could definitely hear something, but it wasn't really distinguishable.

"That's just the wind," Seishiro said, patiently.

"No it's not, hang on," Fuuma snapped, holding his hand up to silence Seishiro, his brow furrowed in concentration. In the taut quiet that followed, the sound grew louder, and if you listened hard enough, or at least hopefully enough… "That's someone crying," Fuuma said, decisively, shivering in excitement. "That's  _definitely_  someone crying!"

"Does crying usually sound like the wind?" Seishiro asked, mildly.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you can't at least feel something! Isn't that what all your powers are for?"

"I feel a presence," Seishiro replied, composedly. "But there's no real emotion attached to it." He had to fight a sudden desire to smile.

"Just shut up and listen one more second," Fuuma said, and Seishiro folded his arms and leaned back in his chair as silence fell again. They waited, and heard the sound a little louder this time. It could definitely be crying if you wanted it to be. Seishiro said nothing, waiting for Fuuma to get his fill and for the audio recorder to pick up enough for the final cut. "That's someone crying, I don't give a fuck what you say." Fuuma said in a deeply satisfied tone. Now it was Seishiro giving the camera a "see what I put up with?" look. "I wanna use the spirit box, see if she'll tell us what she's crying about." Again, Seishiro fought the sudden desire to smile. "So for those of you who don't know," Fuuma said, addressing the camera. "A spirit box sweeps through radio frequencies every two tenths of a second, the idea being that spirits can manipulate the white noise into discernable words, what we call EVP, or electronic voice phenomena. Stop making that face," he added to Seishiro, because he could tell he was rolling his eyes. "Okay, here we go." Fuuma turned on the spirit box, and a cacophonous, garbled mess of static issued from it. "Violet!" Fuuma called, over the noise, ignoring Seishiro's look of derision. "If you're still here, say yes." A moment's silence passed, then,

"Yes."

"That was a yes!" Fuuma cried, excitedly. Then, when Seishiro looked even more unimpressed than usual, "My name's Fuuma, can you say Fuuma?"

"Seishiro."

"What the fuck?!" Fuuma cried, actually recoiling from the box and staring at it in disbelieving excitement. "You heard that, right?! She said your name!"

"I guess she likes me better than you," Seishiro replied, and Fuuma gave him an extremely nasty look.

"Don't put words in the mouths of the dead, you disrespectful fuck." Seishiro's lip twitched in yet another impulse to smile.

"Says the person trying to extrapolate from static."

"You know what- No, never mind." Fuuma cleared his throat. "Violet, was that you crying before?" A pause.

"Yes."

"Why were you crying?" Another pause, and Seishiro turned to look at the box in spite of himself.

"I hate that machine." Seishiro actually laughed, he couldn't help himself, and Fuuma shut off the spirit box at once, looking stunned, but very pleased.

"You see? It's not just me who thinks it's ridiculous," Seishiro said, but Fuuma ignored him.

"Sorry," he said to Violet. Seishiro smiled. They looked away from each other, and silence fell between them, full of wonder rather than tension.

"That should be plenty for one episode, don't you think?" Seishiro asked, after a while.

"I kinda wanna stay down here all night and see what else happens," Fuuma said, looking around the room with great interest.

"Feel free," Seishiro said, slowly getting to his feet. "I've seen enough, though."

"You suck," Fuuma said, grumpily.

"It's not my fault Violet said my name and not yours," Seishiro said, smirking, and Fuuma replied with a rude hand gesture. "We've been up too long, come on. We'll leave the cameras and audio recorder running." Fuuma narrowed his eyes, debating if it was worth the argument, but in the end just sighed and got to his feet too. They headed back to their room, but at the top of the stairs Seishiro paused to quietly say a mantra, then added a soft, "Thank you." A sudden cold breeze rushed past them down the stairs, ruffling their hair and stinging their eyes. Fuuma swore loudly, then hastily apologized, but under all the noise Seishiro heard, loud and clear,

"You're very welcome."

* * *

Christmas morning dawned, bright white and freezing, outside Evergarden Manor. Inside, however, was warm and soft and cheerful, full of the smells of food and coffee and new wood fires.

"How did everything go last night?" The owner asked Fuuma and Seishiro, once they'd woken up and were back downstairs to clear up all their equipment. They exchanged a look, and it was Seishiro who answered.

"As well as we could have hoped for. Thank you for all your help." Fuuma watched him curiously, but the owner just smiled graciously and waved the words aside.

"It was my pleasure, I can't wait to see the episode!" They exchanged a smile. "You'll both stay for Christmas lunch, at least," she continued, and they knew better than to refuse her. Of course, there was no way they could have regretted their decision, not when the food was warm and home cooked and delicious and the conversation was easy and flowing.

However, that afternoon, Fuuma and Seishiro insisted they had to take their leave. They packed up the car, said a last round of goodbyes and thank yous and headed out. The pretty little town still looked like a Christmas card; the cold clear sunlight reflected off the rooftops covered in sparkling snow. There was almost no one out, just a few people walking their dogs or carrying stacks of presents to family and friends' houses. Fuuma smiled at them as Seishiro lit a cigarette, then rolled down the window to exhale.

"So," Fuuma said, once they were on the tiny, winding road heading back towards the highway.

"So what?" Seishiro asked, though his lip curled as he knocked ash off his cigarette.

"Last night was fucking great."

"Mm." Fuuma gave Seishiro a sideways look.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened when you stepped outside during the party, or…?" Seishiro finished his cigarette, rolled up the window and turned up the heat before answering.

"If you'd like me to, sure." Fuuma turned to stare at him expectantly. "Keep your eyes on the road, please?" Seishiro asked, wearily, and Fuuma muttered darkly under his breath and faced forward again. Seishiro actually smiled, and began to tell the story.

He had made his way through the party and out the French doors onto the terrace. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow, which sparkled in the warm light from inside and the cold light of the stars shining in the clear, blue black sky. Seishiro lit a cigarette and took a long, grateful drag, feeling calm despite the cold.

He and Fuuma had agreed pretty much out the gate that they wouldn't ever summon anything on camera, or perform legitimate rituals or ceremonies. That was just for their actual paranormal investigation business. For the cameras, all they bothered to do was show Seishiro chanting a mantra, followed by a disturbance or catch a weird sound on their audio recorder or a strange EMF reading, and the producer and their viewers would eat it up.

Seishiro took another drag from his cigarette and drew a pentagram in the air with its smoldering end as he began to chant a mantra. A sudden icy breeze blew up around him, and he smiled a satisfied smile as the young woman from the picture in his and Fuuma's room appeared before him, slightly transparent but definitely present. She looked around curiously for a moment before fixing her clever eyes upon Seishiro.

"Good evening," he said, bowing. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss Evergarden." She smiled.

"You aren't the first," she replied, her voice echoing. "Although that's a rather unusual method." Her eyes darted to his cigarette.

"Indeed," he replied, bowing his head graciously. "I'm Seishiro Sakurazuka. I'm an onmyoji." Violet curtsied. "My partner is Fuuma Monou, but he's inside at the party," he continued, nodding through the French doors, and Violet followed his gaze.

"I see."

"I was hoping to speak to you, though," Seishiro told her, and she returned her transparent, though no less penetrating, stare to his face.

"I see," she said again. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I should be asking you that, shouldn't I?" Seishiro countered, and she tilted her head to the side curiously, but said nothing. "It'd be romantic to bring back your fiancé," he offered. "Finally allow you to be reunited." Violet considered him, and a smile broke out across her face.

"It would be," she agreed, with a soft laugh. "If my fiancé were real." Seishiro's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" Violet's smile widened, though it was a weird mix of sad and mischievous.

"I died of consumption, not a broken heart," she explained. "The whole lost fiancé story was one my family gave out at my request." Seishiro wasn't sure if he should be impressed or suspicious, so he just took another drag from his cigarette. "It's rather unseemly, I suppose," she said, smoothing the folds of her dress. "But I knew I wasn't going to recover, and I just couldn't face it. I hated to think of being treated as more fragile than I already was, youngest daughter and all, and I've always been a story teller, though I never had the chance to be published." She sounded entirely pragmatic, and though Seishiro was definitely impressed, he couldn't help but still feel suspicious. "I suppose you think it's selfish," Violet said, tilting her head to the other side. "Making my parents and siblings keep this all hidden away and lie for me."

"Yes," Seishiro replied, totally unabashed.

"Will you expose me?" Violet asked, her smile now challenging. "Or else exorcise me, as you actually seem to have the power to do?" Again, she eyed his cigarette, which he finished before putting it out in the snow. Rather than just discard the butt, however, he held onto it to throw it away properly.

"No," he said, decisively. "You seem fine here. Disturbing that would be cruel."

"And you aren't a cruel man?" Seishiro laughed softly and looked back inside the party, where Fuuma was still surrounded by people.

"Everyone believed your story?"

"So it would seem, but people aren't exactly difficult to convince." The corner of Seishiro's mouth twitched. "Forgive me, but you and your partner also seem to understand that." Seishiro returned his gaze to her, and found she was back to smiling mischievously. "If you'd like me to put on a show of sorts, I'm more than willing." Seishiro smiled back at her.

"Not so selfish after all then."

"Perhaps not." A brief pause.

"Once my partner and I are alone in the drawing room," Seishiro said. "If it's not too much trouble." Violet curtsied, and then began to fade. Another sudden blast of icy wind blew up around Seishiro, and Violet's voice seemed to float upon it,

"Certainly."

And with that, she was gone. For now, anyway. Seishiro shivered, suddenly aware of  _just_  how cold it was, and hurried back inside the house.

"Are you fucking  _kidding_  me?!" Fuuma demanded, though he sounded nothing short of thrilled. "She did all of that on purpose?! Holy shit that's amazing!"

"She was sharp," Seishiro agreed, smiling fondly out the window.

"For real, I love her," Fuuma said, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. "We gotta come back here so I can meet her."

"Maybe," Seishiro replied, leaning against his seat, though truthfully he wouldn't mind it. Fuuma drove them along the now totally empty mountain road, the snow and sunlight and silence pressing in on them, though like yesterday it was all soothing.

"That was uncharacteristically nice of you," Fuuma said, when they eventually reached the highway.

"What was?"

"Offering to summon her fiancé so they could be reunited or whatever." Seishiro smirked and lit another cigarette, and Fuuma rolled down the window for him.

"I suppose it was," he replied, fairly. "The season must have worn me down or something." Fuuma rolled his eyes and sped up to get around someone driving too slowly.

"Yeah yeah. Merry Christmas, you fucking asshole," he said, his tone deeply affectionate.

"Same to you," Seishiro replied, with only the smallest trace of sarcasm.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays and best of luck in the new year, everybody!
> 
> I think of comments and kudos when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!


End file.
